


Of Carriage Rides and Belated Valentines

by bulletincookie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Also Sadness, Fluff, M/M, but happy ending, god so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletincookie/pseuds/bulletincookie
Summary: Ill-timed meetings leave Spain alone without France for company for his birthday and Valentine's Day. At least Portugal is there to be a shoulder to cry on, or at least he is when he's not too busy with his own valentine.





	Of Carriage Rides and Belated Valentines

**Author's Note:**

> The idea came to me and there was no way I was waiting until February next year to post it at a reasonable time with all of the other Valentine's Day fics, especially for a couple of ships that needed a lot more love now.
> 
> Thank you to sinunamor for the title!!

Spain sighed heavily as he laid on his couch, his cheek pressed against the cushion as he watched the telenovela on the TV. It wasn’t the same without someone to watch it with and talk about it. Not that he was lacking on people that he could watch it with, and many had come and gone during his birthday, but he would have rather had France there. He propped a pillow under his head, trying to pretend it was France’s lap, though it wasn’t very soft and gave his neck a bit of a cramp, so he tossed it to the side again with a heavy sigh. Well, at least France would get here soon.

He made himself dizzy by how quickly he sat up when he heard his phone ringing. He paused the TV and grabbed it, smiling brightly when he saw it was France. He answered it immediately, expecting to see a rental car pulling up any minute. “France! How was the flight amor?” he asked, though his smile faltered when he heard a tired sigh on the other end.

“I’m sorry, mon ciel. I don’t think I can make it tonight,” France admitted, and Spain felt his heart drop. “I just got out of my meeting, and they’re planning on having another one in a couple of hours. I will try to get over there as soon as I can.” Spain stayed silent for several moments, and France grew worried and checked to make sure that he hadn’t hung up on him out of anger. “Espagne?” he asked softly, feeling even more guilty for not being able to convince his boss to schedule the meeting on any other day. Any day besides today. Finally Spain spoke up again, fake enthusiasm evident in his voice.

“That’s okay France. Just make it over here when you can. I know you’re working hard over there. We can celebrate my birthday tomorrow instead,” he assured him, trying to force a smile onto his face. He knew France couldn’t see it, but it helped him try to convince himself that he really was okay with it.

“You know I would move the world for you if I could chéri,” France said, feeling his heart get squeezed at how upset Spain sounded even though he tried not to be.

“I know,” Spain mumbled. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I have to go get food now, I’m starving. I’ll call you back after the next meeting is over,” France promised before hanging up abruptly.

Spain sat on the couch for the rest of the night, staring at his phone. He never unpaused the TV again, worried that if he did, he would miss France’s phone call.

France never called for the rest of the night, and Spain passed out from exhaustion around two in the morning.

 

The next day was similar, with a few countries coming by and apologizing for forgetting that yesterday was his birthday. They left quickly though, not wanting to stay around the nation that was usually so cheery and upbeat but was now gloomy and passive about everything. With every knock on the door or phone call his mood got worse after seeing it wasn’t France. After the fourth time he gave up hope and went to bed for the rest of the day. He kept his phone nearby just in case, but it never lit up with a call from France the entire day, not even a text.

 

In the morning when Spain saw that France still hadn’t called or texted him, he called Portugal and cried about how he was alone on Valentine’s Day. Portugal eventually relented and came over to offer some company for him. The two sat on Spain’s couch watching the half-finished telenovela that Spain never bothered unpausing since two days ago. Spain was curled up in a blanket and leaning against Portugal as Portugal sipped at a glass of wine.

It helped cheer Spain up for a bit, but that all came crashing down when Portugal insisted he had to go for the third time. The first two times when England called him to ask him when he was coming back, he assured him he was leaving soon, but Spain whined and clung to him. England sighed and told him that he had something to take care of anyways, so another hour wouldn’t hurt. The third time England called him, Portugal forcefully pried Spain off of him.

“I’m sorry, but not all of us have to be alone on Valentine’s Day just because you are. Go out to a bar and find someone else if you’re that upset about it,” he reasoned as he pulled his shoes on. Spain whined and Portugal had to pry him off once more before he finally managed to leave and drive back to his own house.

He immediately noticed something was wrong when he got there, since even the densest person alive would’ve noticed the two ancy horses in front of an elegant black and gold carriage sitting out in his driveway. He wondered how long England had been planning this, and he felt bad for letting himself be delayed. He got out of his car, immediately being greeted by England in a waistcoat and a top hat.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled, and Portugal laughed softly.

“You told me I could take longer,” he reasoned, wrapping his arms around England’s waist to pull him in for a tight hug.

“I suppose I did. It gave me time to think about what to do for you. I decided on a few things,” England said, and Portugal laughed and looked at the carriage.

“I’m assuming this is one of those things,” he said. “Are you going to take me to the ball now? Am I going to be the prettiest girl there and win the heart of the prince?”

“I have a riding crop that I will shove down your throat if you don’t shut up,” England threatened, only making Portugal grin more.

“Amor, I didn’t realize you were so kinky,” he teased, earning him a smack upside the head.

“Just get in the carriage already you idiot. I’ll go get the driver from inside,” England scoffed, turning and stalking inside. Much to his chagrin, Portugal followed him inside too. “I thought I told you to wait--”

“In the carriage, yes, I know,” Portugal interrupted. “But you’re dressed up all fancy, and I’m in a shirt that is soaked with Spain’s tears. So I’m going to go get dressed into something nicer while you get everything ready to go.” England couldn’t argue with that, so he let Portugal hurry upstairs and get ready. Unfortunately he had forgotten that Portugal’s idea of “getting dressed” meant getting ready and fixing everything that was possibly wrong. It wasn’t until England stomped upstairs to see what was taking him so long that he dragged him back downstairs, having walked in on him trying to fix the curls on top of his head that refused to stay down.

“But Inglaterra, my hair is messy,” Portugal had complained.

“It looks fine. It’s just going to be the two of us anyways,” England said as he helped him up into the carriage. Once they settled down, he presented him with a bouquet of roses, a proud smile on his face. “These are for you,” he said. Portugal took the roses with a wide smile, setting them aside so he could give England a quick kiss.

“I wish every day was Valentine’s Day,” he said. “You’re not usually this open and loving.”

“Yes I am. You just don’t notice,” England argued, grabbing his hand and giving it a small squeeze.

“I think I notice a lot more than you think I do,” Portugal murmured, bringing England’s hand up to press a kiss to the back of it. “I see how you always make sure we have plenty of my favorite tea in the cupboards, and how you always try to schedule your work in the afternoons so that you can sleep in with me. You always make sure there’s coffee ready for when I do get up, and you make sure to keep snacks in your briefcase at the world meetings because you know I never remember to bring cash with me to get something from the vending machines.”

“You can stop now,” England said with a small cough, hoping the dim light of the carriage was enough to hide the blush slowly spreading across his cheeks.

“But what about the baking lessons I give you that you swallow your pride for one night to try to learn something new?” Portugal asked, smiling softly at him. “I can’t prove my point without bringing that up too. The point is, I notice a lot more than you think I do, and I really appreciate it all. I just wish you were romantic like this more often.”

“Are you being this poetic because you forgot to get me something on the way back from Spain’s?” England asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You know me too well. I was in such a rush to get back and see you that it slipped my mind entirely,” Portugal chuckled. “That wasn’t me being poetic though. If you want me to be poetic, I can--”

“No,” England interrupted quickly. “You can make it up to me tonight. We’re going to use that fireplace that you refuse to turn on.”

“But the gas costs money,” Portugal complained.

“You know what else costs money? A hotel room that you have to book last minute because your boyfriend kicked you out into the streets after you forgot to get him a Valentine’s Day gift,” England said, and Portugal felt the color drain from his face. He knew England was serious, he had done it before for much pettier things.

“A cozy night in front of the fireplace sounds wonderful docinho,” he cooed, and England smirked.

“I thought so,” he said. He eventually switched over to the other side to sit next to Portugal so that Portugal could cuddle up to him and coo more endearments into his ear, most likely to try to make up for forgetting about a gift. After a few minutes he opened the small window so they could look out on the passing countryside.

“My country is so beautiful,” Portugal sighed. “I can understand why you wanted to stay over at my house for Valentine’s Day.”

“No, it’s because I knew you wouldn’t get out of bed for anything unless I came over and forced you out of bed to do something,” England retorted. He sighed and wrapped an arm around Portugal’s shoulders to pull him closer. “I cannot deny that your country is nice. Mine is better,” he grumbled.

“Yours is only beautiful when the sun decides to come out for five minutes a month,” Portugal shot back, grinning. “Mine is beautiful year round. That’s why so many tourists come. My beaches are the best.”

“Yes, well. I have plenty of good beaches too,” England defended, and Portugal laughed and sat up to kiss his cheek.

“I know you do. But your house is always too cold or too gloomy to properly enjoy them,” he reasoned.

“Well I can’t control the weather,” England said. He moved to sit on the other side again, but Portugal whined and wrapped his arms around him to stop him.

“Inglaterra I was joking,” he whined. “We can take a trip to one of your beaches sometime if it really bothers you.”

“Calm down you idiot. I was just going to check with the driver on how much farther we have,” England said, trying to pry him off of him. It was no use though, and he soon settled down with a heavy sigh. Portugal smiled triumphantly and went back to cuddling him, though he looked at him in surprise when the carriage went off the road, the ride becoming noticeably bumpier.

“Where are we going anyways?” he asked.

“It’s a surprise.”

“There’s not much surprising about being out in the country. Are we going to have a picnic?”

“Am I that predictable?”

“No, just old fashioned. Taking a carriage ride out to the country and having a nice picnic out there is a very old fashioned thing to do. I don’t mind.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that a picnic isn’t the only thing I have planned. But I knew that Spain was most likely too busy crying to treat you to lunch so I decided we should have a picnic as well.”

“I hope you’re not the one that made the food.”

“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Inglaterra, you know I love you with all of my heart, but your cooking is absolute shit.”

“Well then next time I’ll just make a picnic myself instead of buying it all from that cafe down the street that you love.”

England paused and looked at Portugal, confused by the wide grin on his face.

“What?” he asked.

“Next time?” Portugal repeated. “Does that mean we’re going to have more dates like this?”

“What? No, I just meant--” England started, but Portugal cut him off again.

“I know what you meant. Wishful thinking,” he teased, giving him a small nudge.

“Well, if you lose your attitude, you may see another date like this in this century,” England huffed, and Portugal grinned and pulled him into a hug.

“You know there is never any chance of me ‘getting rid of my attitude’. If you don’t treat me to something like this, then I will just have to do it for you for your birthday,” he said, determined.

“You say that now, but once my birthday comes around you’re going to forget and we’re just going to spend the day lazing around at your house since you forgot to reserve anything,” England huffed, making Portugal blush in embarrassment.

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with just staying inside and enjoying a nice homemade meal with your boyfriend for your birthday,” he defended. He looked out in surprise when the carriage pulled to a stop, and the first thing he noticed was the table and chairs already set up next to the pond with the most cliche looking picnic basket sitting on top of the table next to some candles.

“Wow, you went and got all of this set up ahead of time?” Portugal asked, stepping out with the bouquet of roses. “Weren’t you worried about animals coming and ruining it?”

“Of course not. I had Uni watching it for me,” England assured him, and Portugal nodded, having given up a long time ago about trying to convince England that his “magical friends” weren’t real. At least they got lucky and the food was untouched. He sat down at the table as England took out a lighter and lit the candles, then got to serving them their food.

“You realize that all of this is very, er, appreciated but unnecessary,” Portugal pointed out with a small smile. “I would have been just as happy staying at home and cuddling with you after making us dinner.”

“I am aware, but I am also aware that that is what we do most of the time when I come visit, and it is Valentine’s Day. We’re supposed to act more romantic than usual on this day,” England countered. He finished getting their food out of the basket and then sat down, setting the basket on the ground next to them so it wasn’t in their way.

“I don’t see why we have to act especially romantic on just one day just because the calendar says so,” Portugal mused, resting his chin on his hand with his elbow on the table.

“Because it’s to celebrate Valentine’s Day. Just like how you don’t spend every day partying, you keep it for your birthday to make it special,” England reasoned with a scoff. “Stop questioning everything like a child and eat.”

“Well, I suppose it could be worse. At least traditions for Valentine’s Day have changed from what Rome made it,” Portugal joked, and England grimaced.

“Two largely different celebrations. But yes, I am thankful for it too,” he agreed. “I was never fond of the stories I heard of men getting naked and whipping women in public.”

“Oh, but you have no problem with doing that to me in bed?” Portugal joked, making England’s face turn red.

“This is supposed to be a romantic dinner, Portugal,” he said, giving him a stern look, though it only made Portugal grin more.

“Fine, fine, I’ll shut up. I’m starving anyways,” he relented, starting to eat the sandwich that England had bought him. The two continued to chat casually during their meal, though quite a few times England had to reach over and smack Portugal upside the head for a comment he made. Once they both finished England packed everything up, and Portugal watched in amazement as the table and chairs easily folded up and fit in the back of the carriage with the basket.

“So where to now?” Portugal asked once they climbed back in the carriage. Turns out, England wasn’t done planning cliche romantic things. They went out to a stable and rode a couple of horses that he had rented, then went to go see a romance movie. England couldn’t stand how cheesy the movie was, and Portugal laughed softly and agreed with him, but England was almost positive he saw him wiping away tears at one point. It was nearly dark out by the time they got out of the movie, and they decided to walk to the store and buy some ice cream before taking the carriage back to Portugal’s house.

Portugal carried everything inside and set it aside while England took the ice cream into the kitchen to serve, and he even rearranged the room slightly to put the couch in front of the fireplace and facing it once he managed to get it turned on. England came back into the room soon after that, grumbling about how hard to scoop the ice cream was still despite being out of a cold area for so long. Portugal pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch and wrapped it around them both, cuddling up to England as he took his bowl of ice cream and started to eat. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmured, kissing his cheek. “Thank you for today. It was fun, even if it was very over the top and cliche,” he teased softly, earning him an elbow to the ribs.

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy things that are over the top and cliche,” England grumbled as he got comfortable against him.

“I never said I didn’t like it. I loved it, just like I love you,” Portugal teased. Once they both finished their ice cream he took care of their dishes, choosing to just rinse them off and deal with washing them later so he didn’t waste valuable time. He hurried back and took his place next to England again, just getting settled when his phone went off. He groaned softly in annoyance and took it out despite England telling him to just ignore it.

“It’s Spain,” he noted, his brow furrowing.

“Don’t,” England warned, but Portugal answered it anyways.

“Hello Spain, what--” he said, but was cut off with a wail from the other end.

“H-He didn’t show up at all today!” Spain cried. He was curled up on the couch under three blankets, eating his own ice cream straight from the tub.

Portugal sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Spain, I can’t talk for very long, I’m busy. I told you, just go to the bar and find someone else for tonight,” he insisted.

 

Unfortunately, Spain didn’t get the hint, and continued to cry on the phone with him for another two hours. Portugal finally got him to calm down and stop crying after that, and sighed in relief when he heard the doorbell faintly in the background on Spain’s end.

“Hold on, someone’s here,” Spain mumbled with a small sniffle. He got up and shuffled to the door with his phone, opening it and frowning when he saw it was France with an apologetic smile on his face. He completely forgot about Portugal at that point and he huffed.

“What do you want?” he asked, trying his hardest to sound angry despite his voice still being thick from crying.

“I’m sorry for not talking to you at all yesterday or today,” France started, stepping aside and gesturing to the trailer that he was attached to the rental car, which was filled with wrapped gifts of all shapes and sizes.

“A-Are all of those for me?” Spain asked, amazed as he stepped out and inspected the trailer.

“Of course, who else would they be?” France joked, hugging him from behind. “Joyeuse Saint-Valentin.”

On the other end of the phone call, Portugal sighed heavily.

“I think he forgot he was on the phone with me,” he muttered.

“Hang up then,” England insisted, tapping away at his phone as he played a game. Portugal nodded and hung up, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“I’m sure we’ll hear plenty about it tomorrow,” he murmured, pulling England close with a small smile. They soon went up to Portugal’s room to relax and unwind for the night, enjoying some warm tea that England made.

Spain smiled brightly and turned around, pulling France into a tight hug. “I was so worried,” he admitted. “I spent this morning with Portugal but then he was really mean and left because England wanted to spend today with him and then I had to spend all of the rest of the day alone because nobody was picking up the phone and, and--”

“Hush hush! Don’t worry about that anymore, I’m here now. I’m sorry for not telling you, but I wanted it to be a surprise. I was too busy all of yesterday and today shopping for you,” France interrupted, returning the tight hug and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “I know I should’ve at least sent you a couple of texts, but I was very worried that I would give it away if I tried to talk to you. How about you help me get these all in and then I can spend the rest of the night making it up to you?”

Spain agreed happily and helped him carry all of the wrapped gifts in and up to his bedroom. By the time they got them all into the house, there was only a small path through the bedroom so that they could step through it without stepping on anything. They sat down and cuddled on the bed as Spain quickly opened up everything. Most of it was typical boxed sweets or soft stuffed animals that quickly piled around them on the bed, and plenty of clearly very expensive wine to last him for the entire year.

  
Spain loved it all regardless, and he hugged France and gave him a thank you kiss after every gift. France told him the story of how he came across each gift and couldn’t resist getting it for him, even though he knew he had already gotten Spain several other gifts that were extremely similar to it. Eventually the floor was covered with empty boxes and wrapping paper, and there was barely any room for Spain and France on the bed from how many stuffed animals there were. Neither thought it to be too much though, and France silently thanked god for how quick to forgive his boyfriend was and how easy he was to shop for. They opened up one of the bottles of wine that France had gotten and enjoyed it with one of the countless boxes of chocolate as they settled down for the night.


End file.
